Song of Swords
by Elfin Maid
Summary: I picked up the sword. It was light, and it glittered softly. And it was...calling me? Something was humming in my head, a song. The King turned. "Put the sword down." I tried. And found that its power was greater than I could control.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, first thing y'all should know is that I have changed stuff in Middle Earth up a bit, to fit the story line. Second, I will not tolerate flames, or rude comments. I appreciate helpful comments, but please do not take advantage of the system. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Save her. Please..."

"I can not promise. They will seek her, and eventually they will find her. She will never be safe."

"Try...for me..."

"I will."

* * *

I have no memory of my parents. All I can remember is a fire, and a lot of noise. And then a face, my mother's I think, but it is blurry.

Aunt Naia says that I am special. I don't think so, but she insists.

I mean, it's not as if I'm pretty or anything. I'm a dud at housework. Clumsy, shy, the list goes on.

I try, I really do. But it's hard.

I'm told that my parents were elves. If that's true, then I should be immortal. I look younger then my 19 years, as many people have remarked, and I do have pointed ears. Aunt Naia says I am, but she thinks I'm perfect.

**If**. "If" this, "if" that. So many things are "if."

I suppose I'm considered tall, and 5'5''or so, but there's nothing special to look at on my face. Well, nothing but my eyes. Everyone says that my eyes are unique-special.

My eyes have always been considered odd. They're big, blue, and slanted, which is unusual for both humans and slightly strange for elves. I've gotten all sorts of remarks about them-weird-strange-freaky...

You name it, I've heard it.

That's not a good thing.

Aunt Naia says that I'm here for a purpose. What, to break all her best tea cups?

I'm useless, there's no denying that.

Maybe, someday, I'll find out what I can do.

Maybe.

* * *

"Who is she, Father?"

"I do not know, Legolas. But she bears the mark of an elf, there is no doubt. And I must find out, because it is clear that she belongs among us." King Thranduil turned, his silver robe sweeping the floor as he went.

"Wait, Father. How will you do it?"

The Elvenking paused. "I have my ways."


	2. Chapter 2

I couldn't remember coming here. All I did find in my weary, confused head was a memory of falling, falling down in to the depths of sleep. It was cold, and there was no light. None at all. I could feel the darkness seeping into my bones, making me feel like falling back into that peaceful oblivion from which I had come.

No. I had to fight it. There was no hope for me if I did not.

I did not know where I was.

And then it struck me: _ I did not even know who I was._

How could I have forgotten? There was no way I didn't have a name. Or a family.

I shifted, and then winced. There was a lump on my head, and it was painful. Did I get it from falling? Or did it come from my captors?

As a matter of fact, who were my captors? I had heard no sign of who-or what-they were.

The last thing I remembered as sleep took over my body was the cold stone floor underneath me and the bite of cords around my wrists.

* * *

A loud knock sounded on Caliya's heavy door, and she jerked awake.

"Who's there?" Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat raggedly.

"You will see in a moment. I am coming in," the voice said. A click, a rattle of keys, and then the door swung open.

A female elf walked in, followed by a guard. She had long, reddish hair, and was dressed in a green uniform. "Hello. I am Tauriel, Captain of the Guards. The King wishes to see you. Follow me."

"Wait," Caliya croaked out. "Can you unbind me? I can not feel anything..."

The elf exchanged a quick look with the guard. "Very well. But be warned, I will subdue you if the need arises." Tauriel swiftly pulled out a curved dagger, parting the strong cordage without scratching Caliya's skin. "Satisfied?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Come. It is not a good thing to keep the King waiting."

"Where am I?" The words were forced past her parched lips.

"The King will tell you."

They traveled on, through dark tunnels and past burning torches. The guard brought up the rear, and as Caliya followed Tauriel she noticed a double set of long daggers resting in sheathes on her back. Judging by the way she had cut the cordage, the elf was highly experienced.

Soon, the three reached another double set of doors, but this time guards were standing by them. Tauriel nodded briskly as she walked past, and Caliya kept her eyes to the floor. Shortly afterward, they were intercepted by another elf, coming towards them at a jog.

"Tauriel. Father says for me to take her from here." He nodded at the guard behind them, and then turned his gaze to Caliya. "Follow me."

The elleth nodded, retreating back down the halls.

This elf was different. First off, there was something...polished about him. And his eyes were strangely like Caliya's-blue, but not as big and bright. His hair, too, was like hers, blonde and straight.

"I am Prince Legolas Greenleaf, son of the Elvenking Thranduil. And you, prisoner?" His bright eyes were drilling into her.

She closed her eyes partially, striving to remember something-anything-that could help her. "I-I do not know. I no longer have my memories. The last thing I remember is falling. And then darkness. But," she said, brightening, "I do think my name starts with a 'C,' however vague that may be."

Legolas paused, contemplating. "Well, you had best be telling the truth, prisoner. My Father does not tolerate games.''

* * *

"What is your name, maiden?" The Elvenking's face was cold, and he looked at Caliya with utter contempt.

"I do not know, your majesty," she responded, dipping her head. "I do not remember anything anymore."

"Don't remember!" he spat back, whirling. "As if I believed that!"

She dropped her eyes. "It is the truth."

"Pull back your hair," King Thranduil commanded, motioning for the guards to leave them. "Let me see your ears."

She did so, hands shaking slightly, revealing slim, pointed ears like the King's.

He grimaced, face furious. "So it is so. I now have an elf among my kingdom who does not even know her name! Tell me, do you remember_ anything_?"

"Nothing but a few traces of my story."

"Tell it to me! Now!" His voice was harsh.

"I remember fire... and lots of noise. And then a face. I don't know who's. And a sound- 'C,' I believe it is the first letter of my name, but I can not be sure. I think I may be an elf," she added tentatively.

"_May_ be! Elleth, you are most certainly an elf! And now I have to figure out what to do with you! I can not have a wanderer in my kingdom!"

"Can I ask a question? You have asked me many."

"Silence! You will learn to hold your tongue." Raising his voice, he called out to the guards. "Take her away to a room! I will deal with her later. Do not leave her unguarded."

"Yes, your majesty. I will take her to Tauriel, if that is acceptable."

The Elvenking gave a terse nod. _**Who was she?**_

* * *

The King had been... unsettling. His face was strange, regal and yet filled with grief so deep he had never recovered. And his eyes. They were horrible, haunting. I knew that I would have nightmares from them.

What was I to do? I had to remember...


	3. Chapter 3

**Whoah...been gone from this fic for a looong time! I've been working on another story called So Be It. Sorry y'all! R&R, please, but nicely :)**

* * *

They took me to another cell. But this one was better. It was warm, welcoming. A soft bed, a chair, and-a book? A book of elvish tales, I saw, as I moved closer.

Wait. How was I able to read it? I didn't know Elvish! I couldn't speak a word. _How was I able to read it_?!

"The Legends of Gol Calyan," I read out loud.

_Gol Calyan._ It sounded familiar. Something, lost in my mind, was stirring, awakened by the book I held in my hands. _Gol Calyan._

Someone knocked, and I whirled, startled. There was an elven lady at the door, tall and beautiful.

"Welcome, child," she said, her voice soft and melodious. "You have come to the Greenwood, kingdom of the Wood-elves. You are welcome here."

Finding my voice, I said, "Who are you?"

"Areyela, head healer to the Elvenking. He bade me to come and help you. Am I correct in saying you have lost your memory?" She tilted her head, frowning slightly.

"Yes."

"And that you remember a sound, "C," I believe?"

"Yes."

She now regarded me shrewdly. "Here. Change into this." She handed me a small, light bundle of cream-colored silk. Unfolding it, I found it was a dress, and some undergarments. "I will leave the room so you can change."

Areyela exited, leaving me alone again.

I quickly removed my long, soiled dress, slipped out of my chemise, and put on the clothing she had given me. The dress was more of a slip, light and easy to walk in. The front was a bit lower then I would have liked, and the skirt a tad short.

"I am done now," I called, and the door opened once more.

"Very good. Now, let us do something about that hair of yours."

My hair. I had almost forgotten that I _had_ any hair. Lifting a hand to my head, I brushed it back. It was heavy, and soiled.

Areyela had now poured warm water into a basin, and gestured for me to come to her. I looked down into the bowl. Steam wafted up, smelling of lilacs. Areyela grasped my hair with her hands, and quickly loosened the ties that I must have put in it before coming here.

"Lean back, child. Farther. Good," she instructed, and set to work with washing the grime from my hair.

It must have been fifteen minutes before she had finished, and she had changed the water three times. She then poured a smooth, sickly sweet smelling liquid over my scalp, and rubbed it in. After she washed it out, she combed it, and then told me that I could get up.

Amazingly, only my hair was wet. Not a drop had spilled on my dress, nor on my face.

Areyela wrapped a cloth around my neck, protecting me from the water dripping from my hair.

She continued to rub it dry, combing it the whole time. My head ached. I wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a year, but she insisted that I would be more comfortable like this.

After what seemed like an eternity, she was done. My hair was plaited back from my face, and Areyela said I could rest.

"Drink this, child. It will help bring your memory back," she said, and handed me a glass. I drank it quickly, and collapsed on the bed. "Call if you need me."

And she was gone.

* * *

"My lord?" Areyela called out. "My lord? I have just finished with the child..." Thranduil, the Elvenking, turned, and she gasped. "My lord! Why did you not call me?" His face was disfigured, red and weeping, half of it melted.

"I did not wish to disturb you." His voice was raw, and, if you listened closely, worried.

_If he is no longer able to hold the illusion, then he must be disturbed by the girl's presence_. Areyela quickly set about gathering the salves and healing balms she had gathered over the course of the last few centuries. Holding one to the fire, she warmed it quickly, then moved over to Thranduil. "Sit down," she ordered.

Thranduil did so, and she quickly spread the salves over the horrible burns. He let out a soft sigh of relief as they took affect, and as the pain ebbed.

"Tell me what happened."

"My lord," she began, "she is but a girl. And she is most certainly of elven descent. But she is different from us, that is clear. She has a different build, and her eyes are oddly shaped."

"How so?"

"And she is able to read our language," she went on, "but I do not know if she speaks it. It is possible that she is a half-elf."

"Impossible," he said flatly. "There have been no deserters for centuries! How, then, would she be one of us?"

"I do not know."

"When I looked at her, I saw a great power. She does not have any knowledge of it. There is a legend, of when those who had forsaken us would return, and be stronger than before. Is it possible?" He turned to look at Areyela.

"Yes. But also unlikely, my lord."

"Very well. We will see," he said, and turned away again.

_Whatever be the cost._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four is up. Thanks to my first reviewer, Airel Firdy! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I will not be updating on a regular basis, just FYI. I'm working on another story right now...**

* * *

_Give it up. _

_Give it up! _

No!

_Foolish child, to think that you are stronger than us! You will never be free from this! _

_"_Noooo," Caliya screamed. "No-don't give it to them!"

Suddenly, Areyela was at her side, hand on the girl's hot forehead. "Hush, child. Nothing has been given up. What are you speaking of?"

Caliya heaved in great gulps of air, throat raw. "I don't know. Something...something dangerous. Something I used to know, but I have forgotten. I want to be home!" she cried in a panic.

"You are home, child," Areyela said soothingly. "This is your new home." _For now at least_, she thought.

Caliya shook her head violently. "No...this is not home for me. I know it."

"Do you remember your home?" the elven lady asked her.

"No. I see it in my dreams, but then it slips away. I want to be free from it!"

"From what?"

"_It_!" Caliya cried, raising her right hand. There, on her wrist, was a circle of strange markings, died in different colors.

Areyela inhaled sharply. "We need to see the Elvenking."

* * *

"You are telling me," Thranduil intoned, "that the girl has strange markings on her wrist, written in a language that was lost thousands of years ago? And that something is haunting her sleep?"

"That is correct, my lord," Areyela said.

Caliya, staring vacantly nearby, was quietly listening to their conversation. Her big blue eyes, although cloudy, were taking in everything around her.

"It is if something possessed her," Areyela said low.

She sat straight, mind clear and eyes sharp. "I am not being possessed!"

Areyela gasped, whirling. Thranduil, however, looked calmly at her.

"It is _not my fault_ that I have dreams!" Caliya cried.

"Girl," Thranduil said harshly, "tell me what you saw! Now! Your life and many others may depend on it."

She shook her head, whimpering slightly.

Thranduil cursed, spinning away from her and moving quickly to one side of the room. He muttered something, long fingers searching the rows of books for one particular one. Removing it from the shelf, he flipped it open and handed it to Audriel, closing it as he did so.

"Find the _Nanhiann_."

Audriel, still slightly startled, carefully opened the old book, worn leather cover cracking as her hand supported the bindings. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as dust filtered through the air and paper whispered.

"There," she finally said. "I've found it."

Audriel opened the book even wider, until it was laying flat in her hands.

"My lord, you will want to look at this."

Thranduil took the book from her, steely eyes racing across the page. Slowly, the color drained from his face, and his hands shook slightly. He slammed the book closed, shoving it back at Audriel.

"Take her away," he said, eyes closed tightly. "_Take her away_!"

"Come, child," Audriel soothed, as Caliya sobbed hoarsely. "Come with me."

* * *

Thranduil collapsed in a chair as soon as the healer and the girl had left. Head pounding, he fought against the urge to let the glamour slip away and show his true face.

_It can not be true_, he thought.

_But really,_ his mind argued, _would you expect that what you think is true and what is the truth to always be aligned? Just because you are the Elvenking does not mean that everything always follows your lead_.

Opening the old volume again, he re-read the pages:

_'One of the oldest creatures of the past is the S'reth, protector of the ancient forces called Carniyae. They are anciently acknowledged as calm, gentle creatures with powerful abilities, and some would say that when angered can be dangerous. _

_S'reths are attracted by the Seven Ancient Swords, and they will seek them diligently until they succeed in finding and protecting the Sword(s)._

_S'reths are becoming increasingly rarer, mainly due to the fact that the race of Men hunt them ferociously. S'reths, although powerful, can not use their gifts to kill, and therefore are vulnerable to attack. As time goes on, many S'reths have been eliminated, and as such the few remaining are taking drastic measures to keep their line alive._

_By keeping a S'reth from a Sword, you are opening a door for them to use the ancient powers of old against you. These unnatural forces include:__  
-__The ability to call upon the powers of the Elements;  
-The power to stop Time for a limited period;  
-A strange, keening call, which is the way most S'reths communicate, and can put many beings into a trance;  
-And, unusually, the biggest threat, which has terrorized Men for many years-power to shape the world around it. This much feared ability is rare._

_Do not provoke S'reths._

_To recognize a S'reth, you must first be able to read Nanhiann, as all S'reths have a marking in their mother tongue somewhere on their bodies. You must ask permission before speaking the words on their flesh out loud, as often (the S'reth must have come into power) the words will awaken a hidden section of their minds dedicated to finding and protecting all Seven Swords._

_Once woken, a S'reth is dangerous. Do not stand in its way._

_S'eths come in many forms, but their most recognizable trait is their strange eyes. Most S'reths have eyes that are large, almond shaped, and are strangely colored. The face of a S'reth is usually heart shaped._

_S'reths can have hair in many colors, including:  
__-Red  
-Black  
-Gold  
-Silver  
__And more._

_S'reths are immortal beings. As they enter each new life, they will subsequently loose all former memory. Many S'reths have banded together, producing increasingly strong offspring as time goes on. These children will come of age, and then will be sent away, finding themselves with no recollection upon coming of age._

_The Seven Ancient Swords are crafted from melted magik, cooled in the skin of dragons. They are most widely known by their...'_

The words stopped, marred by a sticky substance that looked like sap. Thranduil ground his teeth.

Shoving the book back in place, he ignored the shivers of apprehension that trickled down his back.


End file.
